


Damn It

by ChocolateCannibal



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Friendship, Humor, I love that guy, M/M, Romance, also he's kinda the worst, canon divergence after jiraiya/pain fight, god jiraiya is such a perv, probably too much symbolism, spiritual mumbo-jumbo, tbh after itachi's death canon became absolute garbage, which is why he's fun to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 19:44:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14654865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCannibal/pseuds/ChocolateCannibal
Summary: Jiraiya just wanted to finish his book.





	1. Damn Death

**Author's Note:**

> Are ya'll done with me yet?

The weight of the water singed and soothed him at the same time. Clear bubbles drifted from his lips, fading into the darkness above. He counted three, closed his eyes, and thought about the past.

He remembered the woman who refused to be loved and the friend who refused to be saved. He remembered his students. They were all stubborn blockheads with too much talent and not enough common sense. Martyrs to impossible causes, bleeding hearts to the core.

Man, he sure knew how to pick ‘em.

Jiraiya opened his eyes. Darkness threatened the edges of his vision. Two more spheres of air left his parted lips.

He thought about the present. An image of flaxen hair, summer-blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin wrapped in an atrocious, ill-fitting jumpsuit danced across his mind’s eye.

Naruto…

Naruto was never gonna get laid.

Why did it have to be orange, of all things? What’s with his fixation on that snooty Uchiha brat? And Konoha was rife with so many sweet, lusciously  _bouncy_  young women, but the kid just had to fall for Haruna Sakura. Tempermental, Sasuke-obsessed, flat-as-a-board-

Were these seriously his dying thoughts?

Jiraiya exhaled a weak chuckle. With it went the last of his precious air.

So, there he was: the proverbial ‘end of the road.’ Jiraiya closed his eyes. He found himself strolling through a long tunnel. Memories played on the walls in his periphery like a bad movie. Just before he reached the light, he stopped.

Jiraiya thought about the future.

He wanted to name his next book “The Tale Of Uzumaki Naruto.” He wanted to finish the one thing he did right.

Life is full of choices. Death is another facet of life. Maybe… He turned around. The light tugged at him gently.  _Come to me_ , it seemed to whisper. He forced himself to step away.

It pulled at him again, gently caressing his long white hair.

_Do you know what heaven is?_  Asked the light.

He took another step.

_You’d like it: the bathhouse full of beautiful, wet, naked women._

His foot hovered inches from the ground. Jiraiya ground his teeth and kept going.

_They’re virgins too, just waiting for a big strong man to teach them the ways of love._

This managed to trigger a nosebleed. How the  _hell_ did his spirit body get a nosebleed? Good thing he was alone, or the brat would be having a field day. ‘Because you’re  _that_  much of a pervert, Ero-sannin,’ he’d say, pulling his eyelid down and sticking his tongue out.

Right. Naruto. Tsunade. Konoha.

Jiraiya had work to do. Those virgins –he couldn’t help his lecherous grin- would have to wait for this horny old man.

The light seemed to sigh.

_If you’re sure_ , she –it- whatever, not important- sighed. The pull reversed, gently nudging him the way he came.

Jiraiya was sure. Just like everything else in life, death was a choice.

He choose to come back.

 

* * *

 

 Jiraiya had some epic hangovers in the past. But this… This was a migraine for the ages.

He groaned. “Mother fu-“ 

“You’ve passed the test.”

“Uh.” He squeezed his eyes shut against the white light. “Keep it down, will ya?”

“It seems fate still has a plan for you, my child.”

“Child,” he snorted. Been a while since someone called him that. Shit, how old was he again? Eh, not important. 

"You'll wake soon."

The disembodied voice echoed strangely in the bright, empty void, where- where- uh…

“Where am I?”

“River country.”

“What the… How… And this place…” He looked around and saw a whole lotta nothing.

“From rain to rivers, from river to forest, to a fortress destroyed by iron, salt, and deceit, lies the next step of your journey.”

“Now hold on for one second, guy. If I’m not dead, how come I can’t see my hands?”

Like a fool, Jiraiya assumed that because his head hurt, it was still attached to his body. When he looked down to assess his injuries, he saw… Nothing. With a grunt of effort, he lifted his hands to his face and, well, yeah.

The voice chuckled. Jiraiya realized he probably fucked up by turning down naked girls for quality time with a crazy ghost.

“I am not a ghost,” the voice corrected.

Great. So the thing could read his mind.

“And I am not a thing.”

“Alright, I’ll bite. You’re not a ghost or a thing or a human –I don’t think- so what are you?”

“Wrong question.”

And now the ghost had riddles. Jiraiya scowled. He wondered if he still had a face to scowl with. Then, he came to the conclusion that whole experience was thoroughly fucked up and not worth contemplating.

So, he might as well play along.

Jiraiya rolled his maybe-non-existent eyes and asked, “who are you?”

“I am the Sage Of Six Paths.”

This time, the voice came from a spot directly in front of him.

Said Sage materialized out of thin air, causing Jiraiya to nearly shit himself. Luckily, since his ass was awol along with the rest of his body, that didn’t happen.

Thank the spirits for small blessings.

“What do you want with a guy like me?” he grumbled despite being a little starstruck.

“Our time is short, Jiraiya of the legendary sannin. You’ll wake up soon, and your objective will be abundantly clear.”

With that, the sage touched Jiraiya’s forehead. Pain lanced through his skull, splintering his consciousness and shattering this strange, colorless world.

 

* * *

 

As the Sage said, Jiraiya washed up on a riverbank in an eerily familiar forest. Three birds circled overhead, flying in a ring around the afternoon sun.

The sannin stood up. He peeled his wet, tattered clothes from his skin. The garments were faded, dirty, and crusted with old blood. Jiraiya wrinkled his nose.

Sure, sure, it was a petty trifle: he died. He came back to life. Clothes were the least of his concerns. Heck, at least he still had _something_ to wear _._

“And now,” he rubbed his chin, contemplating a nearby mountain, “where’s that fortress?” 

‘Ask and you shall receive,’ the universe seemed to say, for at that moment, a flash of light erupted from the very mountain he faced. Jiraiya lifted a hand, shielding his face. The light faded. The mountain crumbled.

Jiraiya heaved a long-suffering sigh.

Only an incredibly powerful jutsu could unleash that kind of power. Only an incredibly powerful shinobi could use such an incredibly powerful jutsu. And demolishing structures in the middle of nowhere? Clearly, this incredibly powerful shinobi was up to no good.

The Sage brought him back from the dead, so Jiraiya figured he owed the guy. He took a tentative step, testing his muscles. Nothing hurt. Actually, he felt better than ever, so Jiraiya started running headlong into trouble.

It hit him about a minute later: he was probably gonna die. Again.

Damn it.

 


	2. Damn Uchihas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write to procrastinate...

Jiraiya kept seeing the same bird. At first he thought, hey, it’s a forest and birds live in trees. Most birds looked the same. They all had eyes, wings, and feathers.

This one was no different, but doubt about it: the damn thing followed him.

“Stupid crow,” Jiraiya barked, “I’m not dying-“ yet “-go find someone else to bother!”

Two more birds appeared in front of him. That made three. He took in familiar sight. Three birds flew above him when he awoke on the riverbank. 

Being a ninja, and an awesome one at that, Jiraiya knew there was no such thing as coincidence. 

“Fine, you wanna talk? We’ll talk.”

The crows swooped downwards in unison. They perched on a low-hanging branch slightly above his eye-line.

Jiraiya inclined his head. He sensed no danger, but kept his guard up.

More crows emerged from the forest, joining their companions. They murder* merged into the shape of a man.

“Uchiha Itachi,” Jiraiya observed coolly. 

Itachi nodded just as coolly. He tilted his head towards the demolished fortress.

“It’s almost over. I hoped Naruto would find him before the others, but you’ll have to do.”

“Oi oi oi!” Jiraiya growled, “stay away from him, you weasel bastard.”

Itachi regarded him blankly. The Uchiha would probably roll his eyes if he wasn’t above such things. 

“What would happen to Naruto if my brother died?” Itachi asked.

Jiraiya’s stomach dropped. 

“Is that a threat?”

“No.”

“Sasuke's in danger,” he deduced.

Itachi nodded. 

"He probably brought it on himself. It's not my problem."

"By protecting Sasuke, you would also be protecting Naruto-kun's well-being.”

Jiraiya’s eyes narrowed. The corners of his mouth tightened. He wanted to argue, but there's no disputing the truth.

“Perhaps,” he conceded. 

Itachi glided down from the branch. They stood face-to-face, too close for comfort. Jiraiya wished he had something to stab him with. Then, he realized it was moot since he couldn’t move anyway.

“I’ve seen their bond. You’ve seen what the Kyuubi is capable of. You need to do this,” Itachi said, “consider it a favor for Naruto, and Konoha.”

No two ways about it: apparently, despite being a Mass-murdering terrorist, Itachi still loved his little brother. Or, this was some kind of shitty set-up.

Jiraiya opened his mouth to speak, and found himself with a face-full of crow. He gagged. His eyes watered. His mind buzzed with a thousand questions. The crow split his jaw at the hinges, scraped his throat raw, and fluttered violently in his stomach. Jiraiya hunched over, struggling for breath. Above him, the sky bled from silver to red. 

“You,” he spat, “What the fuck did you do?”

“I’m trusting you with something precious.” Itachi crouched in front of him. Two white fingers touched his chin, forcing their gazes to meet. “Honor a dying man’s final wish, sannin. Give me your word.”

Cursed, half-blind Uchiha eyes brimmed with a universe of secrets and a lifetime too short to contain so much pain. The Sage’s stern, weathered face imposed itself over Itachi's somber, fragile features. 

_Your objective will be abundantly clear._

Yeah, no kidding.

“Alright,” Jiraiya rasped.

With a whisper of wind and the flutter of black wings, Uchiha Itachi disappeared.

The words ‘thank you’ echoed in Jiraiya’s ears. A small black bird appeared on the ground. Crimson eyes blinked rapidly as the creature tilted its head, watching him. Its three-legged form flickered like a mirage. 

Jiraiya’s eyes widened. 

“Yatagarasu,” he whispered, awestruck.**

“Follow me,” said the crow.

Jiraiya knew he made his own choices even if there were some things he’d rather not do.

Like, for instance, comply with an S-Class criminal’s so-called final wish. Seriously, this bordered on Orochimaru-levels Of reckless, possibly illegal stupidity.

But he made a promise, and he never went back on his word.

For some reason, Itachi seemed to know about his nindo, and oh-so-cleverly used it to his advantage. 

“Damn Uchihas,” he cursed. If he had half a brain, he’d run the other way.

Instead, he staggered to his feet and chased after trouble. 

As he jumped through the trees, Jiraiya connected the dots. The heroes in his books always died at least once. Danger and death are trivial to true heroes. In fact, they’re actually signs: when you die and choose to

come back, you get stronger. When danger appears, it means you’re on the right track. 

Jiraiya’s fingers itched with a familiar feeling. 

He knew how to start his book.

 

* * *

 

 

Something was wrong.

Sasuke touched his forehead. Warm red liquid trickled down his face.

There had to be a mistake.

Itachi’s eyes stared vacantly at the sky. Sasuke followed his brother’s gaze. Heavy clouds gathered overhead. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

He couldn’t shake the feeling.

The pieces didn’t fit. 

Grey haze clouded his vision. The world blurred out of focus.

In the end, he didn’t kill Itachi. He didn’t destroy the monster who took his family, sanity, and soul. He... He failed.

Itachi chose to die. He chose to spend his last moments fighting his last living relative.

Why did he apologize? How could he smile like that? 

In his last moments, Itachi seemed devestatingly human.

That couldn’t be right.

His brother was a monster. 

Monsters didn’t have mercy. Even if death stood seconds away, Itachi should have killed Sasuke. 

Instead, he chose to let him live. He destroyed the final traces of Orochimaru’s chakra, then- then-

Sasuke was tired. He needed to rest.

Now that Itachi was dead, Sasuke was allowed to rest.

He closed his eyes and hoped never to open them again.

 

* * *

 

 

‘Yatagarasu’ was a mouthful, so Jiraiya nicknamed his new pet crow 'Yata.'

“Yata,” he said, crouching over Itachi’s corpse, “Are you sure we can’t-“

“There’s no time,” the crow’s voice resonated in his mind, “they’re coming.”

“Who?”

Yata clicked her beak. Jiraiya found out pretty quick that translated to, “Fuck off, I’m not telling you shit.”

“Fine, whatever. What do I need to do?" He scratched his chin, eyeing the corpse disdainfully. "I’m no medic nin.”

Yata hopped forward and pecked Itachi's face. "Make the first cut here."

Jiraiya cleaned the kunai as much as he could- Tsunade would burst a blood vessel if she knew about this unsanitary this little surgery- and fumbled through the procedure with thick, trembling fingers. 

“Now,” Yata instructed, “summon the Death Frog.”

Either Itachi was one lucky bastard, or fate planned every detail meticulously. Any other man fresh from the other side of death would have nothing to work with. Jiraiya wasn’t your run-of-the-mill shibobi. He was a senjutu master. As long as blood flowed through his veins, he had the world at his fingertips. He bit his thumb and drew a seal on the rough ground. 

“Shingama,” he greeted seriously.***

The grey frog stared sightlessly with milky white eyes. Wordlessly, it opened its mouth. 

Jiraiya placed Uchiha Itachi’s eyes under the frog’s tongue.

“Keep these safe.”

Shingama closed its mouth and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“Shingama dwells alone,” he murmured, closing Itachi’s eyelids over empty sockets, “in a place outside of time. He can be summoned thrice.”

Once to create the contract, once to receive an irreplaceable object of incalculable worth, and a once more to return said object.

“No one knows where it came from,” he continued, turning to the prone form of the youngest Uchiha.

Asleep, Sasuke looked younger than his age. Jiraiya caught a glimpse of the boy- a child, really. His heart ached. What a damn shame.

“Each time it’s summoned, disaster follows.”

Jiraiya checked for a pulse. 

“Gamamaru and I are the only ones who’ve know of it.”

Yata preened the short feathers on her chest. Jiraiya examined Sasuke for injuries. Considering the scale of the battle and strength of his opponent, he was in remarkable shape.

“How do you know about him? Can you see into my mind?” Jiraiya asked Yata.

The bird answered with click followed by an impatient chirp. “They’re coming. We must leave _now_.”

Jiraiya scowled. One hand pulled the boy’s limp body towards him. The other drew a new summoning seal, then sent a strong pulse of chakra. 

He expected a frog. Hell, he'd kill to see one of those wide, ugly wart-faces. 

Apparently, he asked for too much.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *actual word for a group of crows  
> **look it up if you want  
> ***idk if this is correct, as per Japanese naming conventions. Feel free to correct.
> 
> ... and procrastinate on writing.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: N:TLA was a sloppy and impulsive fic. I used to have so much fun writing it.
> 
> A year went by. There is now Too Much Plot and absolutely no room to be sloppy and impulsive because Things Need To Happen In Order.
> 
> So, I present to you… drumroll please… Another Fucking Fic.  
> Please enjoy the break-neck pace, plot holes, and total lack of editing. 
> 
> I sure did.


End file.
